


Only a Kiss

by PoeFaraday



Category: The Musketeers (2014)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Angsty Aramis, Bondage, Dom/sub, Friends to Lovers, I'm bad at tags, Light Dom/sub, M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-10-03
Updated: 2014-10-03
Packaged: 2018-02-19 17:06:43
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,388
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2396129
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/PoeFaraday/pseuds/PoeFaraday
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Aramis and Marsac have been sleeping with each other for about a year now. When Aramis returns home after a month away, he discovers some unsettling news.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Only a Kiss

**Author's Note:**

> So technically this is based loosely off of real-life experience. Because when things happen that "get stuck in my craw," I write them into fics and make my favorite characters deal with them, too. This might turn into something way huge. I don't know yet. As of now, I'm expecting at least 3 chapters. And plan on sex, but also expect angst. 
> 
> Also, titles from "Mr. Brightside" by the Killers because I'm trash. 
> 
> *NEWS UPDATE* - the darling, wonderful, radiant breathtaken is helping me out as beta! Applaud her for her tireless efforts!

As Aramis felt Marsac's warm, slick hands move to grasp his hips, his thrusts losing none of their enthusiasm or measured rhythm, he decided that this was how he'd like to have sex from now on. His wrists were still bound in front of him, tethered to the headboard by a length of soft white rope Marsac had brought out one day early on in their sex-partnership. That rope had gotten some real mileage, and Aramis always smiled when Marsac brought it out. Aramis's hips were raised by a stiff, cylindrical decorative pillow - and now, by Marsac's hands. One of Marsac's work ties - the pretty one with the blue paisleys that had always been one of Aramis's favorites - was secured around his face as a gag. This was definitely the way good sex should be. Maybe even great sex. 

Marsac had, in the past year, perfected the art of denying Aramis the pleasure of orgasm - at least, until Marsac was damn well ready for him to turn into a quivering, begging, gasping mess. There was something about the way Marsac's hands reduced him to pudding that Aramis practically revered as a fifth gospel; there was just nothing like the way his friend's fingers knew just where to touch, and with just the right amount of pressure, in just the right direction... Sometimes, Marsac let him come just minutes after Aramis's arrival at the flat, or the studio, or just about anywhere they negotiated on meeting. Other times, like today, Marsac took his sweet time breaking Aramis down, prolonging the beautiful, delicious torture for hours. 

"Don't come," Marsac growled against Aramis's ear, his chest sticky against Aramis's back. One of his hands snaked further around Aramis's body, his fist closing around the dark-haired man's leaking, aching prick. No doubt, he could feel the desperate pulsing that Aramis was trying so valiantly to ignore. "Don't you dare come until I say so."

"Please," Aramis whined, the word muffled by the makeshift gag. The tie had also been a favorite of Marsac's, and he decided that he thought it looked especially good stuffed between Aramis's lips. 

"Not yet." Marsac's thrusts became deeper, harder, and Aramis knew that his torture would come to an explosive finish very soon. Aramis let out a high, desperate whine, resisting the urge to buck into Marsac's hand. "Three, two, one," Marsac grunted through gritted teeth, and stroked Aramis's hefty cock in a tight-fisted grip. "Come for me, now."

Aramis groaned, cursing in broken French as he spilled all over Marsac's hand and the sheets beneath them. He felt Marsac's cock twitch inside him, and knew that his partner was spent as well - as if his partner's roar wasn't indication enough.

After several long minutes of heavy breathing and cooling down, Marsac carefully pulled his softened cock out of Aramis's stretched hole and stood, removing the condom and tying it off before retreating to the bathroom to throw it away and wash his hands. Aramis slumped forward as he waited, but quickly lifted himself up again; the cooling, congealing come on the sheets was too nasty a sensation against his bare skin, and besides, the strain in his shoulder blades from the rope was just a little too much to bear. Marsac reentered the room and pulled on his boxers and slacks before looking back at Aramis, who lifted his eyebrows. Marsac chuckled, leaning forward and untying the knot in the tie around Aramis's mouth so that he could speak.

"Uh... a little help here?" Aramis grinned at him.

Marsac grinned back, sitting at the top of the bed and untying the rope from the headboard. "But you look so pretty like this," he teased, kissing Aramis's knuckles. 

"Yes, well...as pretty as I may look, I do have other places I have to be today."

"Oh, that's right," Marsac replied, nodding in recognition and undoing the knots that kept Aramis's wrists together. "You said you'll be away two weeks?"

Aramis sat up, rolling and stretching his wrists to bring the life back into the muscles and tendons. "Actually, it'll be more like a month. My dad asked me if I would be able to stick around a little longer to help clean out the house, and I had barely opened my mouth to ask Treville for the extra time and he had given it to me."

Marsac nodded, placing a hand on Aramis's knee. "If you need anything - and I mean, apart from the usual - please let me know. I know it's hard, I've been there, but...just don't hesitate to ask, okay?"

Aramis smiled a little and nodded back. "I will. Thanks."

"And let me know when you're back in town, yeah?"

Aramis's smile grew. "The second I'm off the plane."

 

\--------------

 

Athos and Porthos had gotten the weekend from Treville to follow Aramis to Barcelona in time for the wake, and along with their closest friend, served as pallbearers for his mother's funeral. Since Athos and Aramis had interned together, and then Porthos moved to their office, the three had been like family in every regard. They rotated houses for holidays, and Aramis's parents and Athos's mother sent all three of them birthday cards and Christmas letters. It was only natural that, as Aramis only had two living uncles and all of his male cousins were between the ages of eighteen and twelve, Aramis's father had insisted that his two surrogate sons join them.

The morning after the funeral, everyone slept late, exhausted from the spent emotions of the day before. Aramis woke around ten to find Porthos just starting coffee, standing in the kitchen in nothing but his crimson plaid sleep pants. 

"You didn't have to make coffee," Aramis protested gently, scrubbing his eyes out with a knuckle and yawning.

Porthos flashed him a smile. "If I hadn't, we wouldn't've had any til at least noon, the way everyone's snorin' away."

Aramis plunked himself down onto one of the stools on the other side of the counter, blinking heavily. "You could've woken me up."

"Nah," Porthos shrugged. "Besides, your mum always wanted us to make ourselves at home here. Figured I'd take the initiative."

Silence fell between them for a few minutes as Porthos putzed around the kitchen, grabbing mugs from the cabinets and finding sugar and creamer. Finally, Porthos spoke again as the percolator stopped running and the kitchen was awash in the scent of hazelnut coffee.

"So, uh, how's wotsisname? The sexy one with the fancy studio?" 

Aramis lifted his head, having almost dozed off again on the counter, and shrugged. "He's fine. Marsac - his name is Marsac. He's good. Things are good."

Porthos stirred sugar into his mug, then licked off the spoon. "So are you two official now?"

Aramis made a face, shaking his head. "Oh, no. That's not us. We both kind of like what we have, so... I dunno, why ruin it with a relationship, right?"

"Are you happy with that?" Porthos asked, his question innocent enough, but those damned doe-brown eyes of his searching. Darling Porthos, always more concerned with the happiness of his two best mates than with anything else. And pity the poor idiot who did anything to hurt either of his boys. Aramis nodded, blowing on his coffee to avoid those eyes, which always seemed to wrest the truth out of him. 

"Yeah, I am. The sex is... amazing. And to be honest, I don't think I could be in a relationship with him. As similar as we are in bed, I think we're as different in real life."

Porthos grunted, unconvinced. "In my experience, when someone says 'to be honest', it's usually because they're trying to convince themselves of something."

"No, but I mean it. I really don't see us being a Thing," Aramis replied, shaking his head. "I can't imagine living with him, waking up next to him every day."

"As long as you're sure," Porthos conceded, sipping his coffee. "You know I just want you to be happy, right?"

Aramis reached across the counter to put his hand on his friend's knuckles. "Of course I do. And if I'm ever unhappy, it'll be you I run to first."

Porthos chuckled and set his cup down, reaching out to pat Aramis's cheek. "That's a good boy," he teased with a grin, and Aramis felt an unbidden tingle rise through his body. Out of caution, he crossed his legs.

 _You cut that out this instant,_ he warned his traitorous prick.

"Yes, well, it's either you or Athos, and half the time, Athos's solution is just to get pissed," Aramis replied with a chuckle.

"I'm offended, Aramis. That's my solution well more than half the time," Athos interjected, appearing in the kitchen with a towel slung around his waist, hair dripping into his eyes. 

"I didn't even hear the shower go on," Aramis remarked, giving his friend a look of surprise while mentally hissing at his cock to _just behave_. Something about the way the water drops were rolling down the planes of Athos's chest...

"Yes, well, it would seem they've fixed the pipes since last Christmas," Athos replied. "Water pressure's much better, too."

"You ought to be ashamed of yourself, walking around like that," Aramis teased. "This is a house of mourning!"

The slightest grin tugged at the corner of Athos's mouth as he poured himself some coffee. "Maybe so, but your mother would appreciate me being comfortable in her home. Always said so."

Thoroughly scandalised, Aramis stood. "Well now, I need a shower to rinse some choice images from my brain."

Porthos darted past him, down the hall in the direction of the bathroom. "Guests first! Besides, we have to be at the airport by three!"

Aramis gave chase. "My house! I get to go first!"

"Save water, shower together!" Athos called after them, sipping his black coffee.

 

\-------------

 

After Aramis and Porthos had showered - separately, and with much teasing from Athos - and Athos and Porthos had made sure all their belongings were stuffed back into their overnight bags, the two bid Aramis and his father goodbye, offering their condolences again, and promising that, should he need anything, they were only a phone call away. Aramis drove them to the airport in his father's car, hugged them, and reminded them that he would be back in a few weeks, and not to get up to too much trouble before then. 

When he arrived back at his father's house, he checked his phone.

 _Marsac_ [2:24]- hope you're doing ok

 _Marsac_ [2:31] - miss you

 _Marsac_ [2:43] - came in my hand thinking of your tight ass

Aramis blushed, all the heat flooding his cheeks. He shot back a hasty reply. 

To: Marsac. Can't wait to see you again. Not too long.

Stuffing his phone back in his pocket, he went over to empty the dishwasher. His dad passed through the kitchen, grabbing the car keys and announcing in Spanish that he would be back later, he had a few things to tie up at the bank and was going to go talk to the lawyer about the reading of his wife's will. As Aramis heard the car pull out of the driveway, he slid open the top drawer of the dishwasher. His phone vibrated, sending a jolt through him. 

 _Marsac_ [3.51]- you'd better not come til then

A shiver coursed through Aramis's body, and he had to grip the counter to remain upright. 

To: Marsac. I promise, sir.

The reply came back before Aramis could even open the cabinet to start putting away the dishes. 

 _Marsac_ [3:53] - but i want you to touch yourself

It was all Aramis could do not to drop his pants then and there. Taking a few anchoring breaths, he stacked the bowls from the dishwasher and placed them in the cabinet. Deciding on his reply, he typed and sent it. 

To: Marsac. tell me how.

Though his skin itched for a reply, Aramis forced himself to put away the glasses and the plates.  Just as he thought he couldn't bear the wait any longer, his phone buzzed. He practically jumped on it.

 _Marsac_ [4:00] - get on a sofa or a chair. ass in the air. cock in your hand. remember - don't come.

Aramis practically tripped over himself getting to the settee. Pushing his sweatpants and boxers down just over his hips, he got on all fours, sticking his ass in the air and arching his back just the way Marsac liked. One hand slowly palmed his already-stiff cock.

 _Marsac_ [4:03]- doing it?

Reluctant to quit his motions, Aramis picked out his reply one-handed. 

To: Marsac. yeah. so hot for you

 _Marsac_ [4:04] - pics

Aramis almost groaned in impatience. This wouldn't be an easy angle to get a good picture from, but he'd have to try. He settled on one from the front, shoulder raised just enough to show him stroking his cock as well. He quickly sent it and went back to teasing himself.

 _Marsac_ [4:07] - god you're sexy. another minute, and that's enough.

This time, Aramis did whine. He allowed himself another forty seconds or so, then straightened up and stuffed his frustrated cock into his sweatpants. 

To: Marsac. Wish I could come for you. 

As it was, he'd need a cold shower. 

 _Marsac_ [4:13] - you will when you're back

Aramis's smile grew and he went back to putting away dishes, ignoring the beautiful ache in his trousers.

 

\----------------

 

Three weeks later, Aramis was finally preparing to go back home. Marsac had talked him through a couple more jerking-off sessions, but between then and now, Aramis had been so busy that he barely had time to chat. On top of that, he was pretty sure Porthos had taken his phone charger back by accident - or, you know, on purpose - and so, had no way of contacting anyone. Finally, unable to bear the disconnect any longer, he booted up his dad's desktop and headed over to his neglected Facebook page, which he kept only for communication emergencies and, naturally, Bejeweled Blitz. 

Through the sea of condolences on his home page, one post caught his eye and made his heart catch in his chest. His stomach lurched. His face paled.

"Christophe Marsac got Engaged to Rose Chevalier."

Marsac - _his_ Marsac - was getting married.


End file.
